


Guide Us Home

by bccalling



Series: All of the Stars [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9414029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bccalling/pseuds/bccalling
Summary: Ian has never regretted anything more than walking away from Mickey that day at the border. All he wants is to find his way back to the man he loves.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have not watched s6 or s7 yet, with the exception of the episodes with Mickey. I’m new to the series and just haven’t had a chance to finish it yet, so forgive any mistakes in the details here. This is just something that came out. I had the general idea and was planning to wait to write it until I’d finished, but late night inspiration took over and now here it is, so I’m just going to post and hope it’s not too far off the mark.

Ian Gallagher has made a lot of mistakes. More than most. More than he’d ever imagined possible, really. But none worse than letting the love of his life walk away—than pushing him to go and refusing to follow him. Ian had been doing well. He’d believed, truly, that letting go was his only option.

He’s regretted that choice every goddamn day since Mickey had crossed that fucking border.

* * *

There are letters. One for every day Mickey’s been gone. They’re mundane, mostly. Work. Family. Quiet _I love you_ s hidden beneath the domestic bubble they’d once shared.

Others, though, are all sorrow and loss. Empty apologies Ian thinks he’ll never get to deliver. Broken _I miss you_ s that leave him shaking and cold.

He’s nothing without Mickey. He knows that now. Knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’ll never be truly happy without the man he’d let go.

The only thing that keeps him going is the hope that maybe, someday soon, he might hear from Mickey once more.

Ian just needs one more chance to show Mickey how much he loves him.

* * *

Ian goes to Mandy seven months and two weeks after he’d let Mickey go. He figures if Mickey’s had any kind of contact with anyone at home, it’s going to be Mandy.

Ian’s desperate. Been crying for days.

He had spent months hoping to hear from Mickey—to hear something, anything. But he can’t say that he blames Mickey. It was Ian who’d said goodbye and left Mickey on his own. Ian had made a choice that day at the border. It wasn’t fair to expect Mickey to come crawling back to him. Mickey had done exactly that too many times and every time, he’d been hurt for it.

Ian thinks, sometimes, that he doesn’t deserve Mickey.

In the back of his mind, he knows it’s true.

When Mandy opens the door, Ian’s eyes are red-rimmed and swollen. He knows he’s a mess. Can’t really hide it. Figures if there’s anyone he doesn’t have to hide for, it’s Mandy.

The moment she sees him, she smiles sadly and pulls him into a hug, whispering a quiet “hey” into his ear as she rubs little soothing circles into Ian’s back. It only takes Ian a moment to break down completely, clinging to the woman who had once been his best friend and who was now the only link he had left to the man he loved.

When he gets himself together, finally, she leads him inside and hands him a glass of water to help calm his nerves. He feels shaky, on edge, and he hates for her to see him like this. Especially after so much time.

Mandy has Ian set up on the little love seat in her living room, and she’s settled herself nearby in an old overstuffed armchair. Ian thinks for a moment that she seems to be doing well for herself. He wishes he’d known that. Wishes he’d been a better friend. He misses her. She’d been family once, just like Mickey.

“How’ve you been?” He asks quietly. And even though he’s sincere in the desire to learn about her life now, they both know why he’s really there.

“Just ask me, Ian. We both know why you’re here,” she tells him carefully. Her voice is soft, soothing. She understands. Always has.

His eyes raise to meet hers, and there’s a hint of desperation under the facade he’s trying to keep in place. “You heard from him?”

“No.” She says it confidently, forcefully, but Ian catches the way her eyes drop away for the briefest moment.

“Are you lying?” If she’s going to be so direct, he figures he might as well do the same.

Mandy sighs, relenting in the slightest and dropping her guard. Her gaze is soft, and the corners of her lips tip up a bit in a sad smile. “Ian, he doesn’t want to see you or hear from you. He doesn’t want you to know where he is.”

Ian looks confused for a moment, the hurt evident in his eyes. “ _What_?“ he questions, and it’s barely a whisper, the pain choking away his voice.

“That can’t be a surprise to you, Ian. You _broke_ his _heart_ ,” Mandy insists with a shake of her head. “You got his hopes up. You showed up, Ian, and you pretended like you were going with him. From the moment you got in that car, he was imagining forever with you. He thought you were going to be there. That he was finally going to be truly happy again. You made him feel that again, and then you left him. Everyone always leaves him, Ian. He thought, in that moment that you were different, but then you abandoned him and cursed him to a life on the run, forever alone. You fucking _broke_ him, and it was the last straw. He can’t hurt like that again. He won’t survive it.”

“ _Mandy_ —” Ian starts, voice desperate, but he loses his words as the tears gather in his eyes. He swallows hard against the pain and blinks away the tears. “ _Please_.”

“Ian,” she shakes her head again, and crosses her arms defensively over her chest, “I get it, okay. I understand why you couldn’t go through with it. Why you had to let him go. But that was _your choice_ , Ian. You made a choice, and now you have to live with the consequences of that choice. I know you love him—I know you always have—but you’ve hurt him, over and over again, and there’s only so much a person can take. He doesn’t want to see you or hear from you. That’s _his choice_. And he has every right to make it. So just, please, Ian, respect that. Let my brother live his life. Let him find some semblance of happiness again. Without you. _Please_.”

Ian takes in her words, nodding slowly after a moment. She’s right, he knows. Ian never should have gotten in that car unless he was sure. But then, he’d believed he was, at the time. And even if he hadn’t been, he never could have let Mickey go without that final time together; without those carefree hours in that little car, the smiles and happiness. Ian doesn’t think he’ll ever feel that again. Not without Mickey.

“Do you know how to contact him?” Ian asks softly, averting his eyes because he knows it’s not fair of him to ask.

“Ian—” Mandy warns, her voice tight with frustration.

“Mandy, _please_ ,” he begs, eyes still wet with unshed tears. “I won’t contact him myself, I just—I need to know. _Please_.”

Mandy takes a deep breath, eyeing Ian cautiously before sighing softly with a tiny nod of affirmation. “Yeah. I know how to contact him.”

Ian lets out a breath, tension rolling off his shoulders. As long as Mandy knows, there’s still a chance. “Can you do me a favor?” Ian asks softly. “I won’t ask you where he is or how to find him or even how to contact him myself, but could you—could you send him something for me?”

* * *

It’s another three months before he hears from Mandy again. She calls while he’s at work, and he doesn’t get the message until late. It’s short. A town. An address. And a quiet plea that Ian not break Mickey’s heart again.

He won’t this time, he knows.

He’s at the Gallagher house before he knows what’s happening, dropping off a letter for the family. It’s supposed to be his goodbye, but he doesn’t quite make it out so easily.

When he turns around to head back for the front door, Fiona’s there, blocking his path and looking terrified.

“Ian?” Her voice is full of worry with a hint of fear hiding beneath. She thinks he’s manic, off his meds, he knows. He’s not. He’s just finally decided it’s time to put Mickey first.

“Hey, Fi,” he offers quietly, a little smile touching his lips.

“Whatch'ya doing?” The question is cautious. She’s afraid he might bolt.

Ian watches her carefully. He wants to be gentle, put her fears at ease. “Going away for a while. Need to find myself, you know.”

And, okay, maybe that wasn’t the best way to put it after his last few little adventures.

“Ian, please. Where are you going?” Fiona’s worried. He can hear it in the tremble of her voice.

“Fi, I can’t tell you that,” he explains gently. “I just—I have to go, okay? I’ll try to be in touch when I can, but it won’t be often, and I don’t plan to come back. At least not anytime soon. Just. Just don’t worry.” Ian knows it’s not fair. Knows she’s worked her ass off to keep him alive for his whole goddamn life, and she deserves an explanation, but right now he needs to be selfish. He needs Mickey.

“Is it Mickey?” she asks quietly, her voice resigned as she watches Ian carefully.

Ian nods with a little smile and huffs out a laugh. “Of course, it’s Mickey,” Ian admits, watching carefully for her reaction. “I can’t live without him anymore, Fi. I have to find him. Have to be with him. I _love_ him, Fiona.”

Tears are collecting in her eyes, but she smiles, and it looks genuine. “I know,” she murmurs softly, stepping closer to press a little kiss to Ian’s cheek, her fingers brushing the hair back from his eyes. Ian lets out a shaky breath—he’d been sure she was going to blow up at that confirmation. “Mickey has always been good to you, Ian. He’ll take care of you. He loves you, and I trust him. Just—be careful, okay. Don’t get caught. And be good to him. Let him love you. Let him care for you this time.”

Ian feels like he’s breaking. He’d never imagined he might get Fiona’s blessing, and yet, here they are. “Thank you, Fi. I love you.”

Fiona smiles again and pats his cheek. “Love you, too, kiddo. Now go get your man.”

* * *

When he arrives in Mexico, it somehow feels like coming home. He steps off the bus outside the little apartment building with nothing but a backpack slung over his shoulder. He doesn’t have much, but he hopes he’ll have Mickey, and Mickey will always be enough.

When he reaches the door with the number Mandy had given him etched beside it, he swallows hard and hesitates a moment. He’s not sure whether Mickey’s here. Whether he knows. Whether he’d gotten the letters.

But he has to try, so he reaches out and knocks gently. The latch gives way at the pressure and the door swings open a few inches. When no answer comes, he pushes the door the rest of the way open and steps inside hesitantly.

The room is small, mostly empty, not much in the way of furniture. Just open space.

And there, in the center of the room, back to the door, and surrounded by open envelopes, sits Mickey. Ian’s breath catches in his throat, and he feels like he’s dreaming. Could this all be real?

“Mickey?” Ian breaths out, voice so soft he’s not sure the word ever actually leaves his lips.

It takes a moment, but he finally sees Mickey’s head lift, his hands falling to his lap. Ian can see the paper that dangles from Mickey’s fingers then, Ian’s own scrawl clearly visible. “You came,” Mickey whispers, and Ian thinks maybe the words are more for Mickey than for Ian himself.

Ian smiles a bit, still a little wary because he’s not sure how to read the situation. “Sorry I’m late,” Ian murmurs quietly, pulling them both back to those moments all those years ago when Mickey had chosen Ian. Because Mickey is Ian’s choice this time. Now and for the rest of his life. Ian won’t turn away again, and he knows, even all those years ago, that that was exactly the promise Mickey was making when he’d murmured the same.

Mickey’s still for a moment, and it’s like they’re frozen in time. Ian doesn’t know what to think. He’s not sure Mickey’s still willing to give him a chance. Not sure if maybe Mickey’s moved on.

It’s only a moment, though, until Mickey’s up and in Ian’s arms, eyes squeezed tight against the tears that threaten to fall. And Ian feels like he’s flying. Because they’re both here, and Mickey’s smiling through his tears and holding on for dear life, and Ian has never felt happier or more complete.

And on the floor, abandoned with all the others, sits Ian’s latest letter, the only words scrawled on the surface read simply, _I’m coming home_.

* * *


End file.
